Plot Interlude: Everyday Ramen Excursion
by Collaboration for Destruction
Summary: What happened in that intense point of my previous story in which Itachi and Kisame returned to the cave with Ramen? I’m sure all my readers considered that the high point, not only of that seven page epic in particular, but in every piece of literature.


Plot Interlude: Everyday Ramen Excursion

What happened in that intense point of my previous story in which Itachi and Kisame returned to the cave with Ramen? I'm sure all my readers considered that the high point, not only of that seven page epic in particular, but in every piece of written text since the dawn of the human species. As much as I laughed at your pain as you read over the brief sentence "Itachi and Kisame returned from the store," and writhed in agony out of the desire for further detail, WHICH I DENIED YOU, I decided to provide you with what happened. Now express your undying love for my generosity by virtually groveling at the feet of COLLABORATION FOR DESTRUCTION and enjoy reading!

Itachi walked into the store. Eyes squinting and head tilted slightly downward, he walked through the door, looking back and forth as if he were crossing the street. It was his duty to purchase the weekly supply of instant ramen. So far he had been successful in this mission in the past when all that was required was a quick trip to the grocery store. However, C-Town had been closed for renovations due to a prior incident and he was at a loss for where to go. He considered Rite Aid, but this thought was extremely fleeting because the idea of buying food at a Rite Aid is just really depressing. Where could he go? Fairway? Super Compare Foods? …Duane Reade?

But in the distance his ear caught the faint sound of bachata music coming from the open door of a corner deli. He felt instantly this would provide the answer. Several cats ran under his legs and began rubbing against the sides of the entrance way. The television above seemed to be perpetually on a Spanish language channel. Itachi immediately spotted the glass sliding doors on the wall refrigerators at the back of the store near the shelves of junk food. He gathered several varieties of Ramen while eyeing a shiny, refreshing bottle of Yoohoo.

"No, I am definitely not thirsty for that," Itachi lied to himself. He then checked his wallet and thought, "well, if I put back one Ramen then maybe I can get this." Who's Ramen would it be best to leave behind? He thought of the consequences of ignoring his teammate's needs. He almost put the Super Mega Ultra Spicetastic Death Jalapeno Ramen back on the shelf, but quickly realized his mistake when he remembered this was the one Pain requested. He knew that if he even tried to squeeze a Yoohoo into the ten dollar bill he was given, there was no way Kakuzu wouldn't count the change and immediately notice something.

It seemed that he had no options left, until the thought finally occurred to him like a brilliant revelation, shining the light of possibility and wisdom onto ignorance; so simplistic yet so innovative, that he could leave the store with the Yoohoo _without_ paying! For someone who lived a life so absorbed in mass murder, psychological torture, and plots of world domination, crimes such as dollar store theft were easily overlooked. But oh how it is truly the most insignificant actions that are the most enticing! No speeches or looks of intimidation followed by an elaborate, yet boring battle sequence were to accompany this act. No, the true titillation of petty thievery was in the slow, sliding hand gesture of moving a candy bar into your pocket, or shoving a tepid Yoohoo bottle into your sleeve. There was a strange thrill in trying to grip your sleeve ring tightly so that the bulge the bottle made didn't seem too large or unnatural, and praying it won't slip past your hand as you slowly make your way towards the exit. Every step is an eternity and an agony, yet the excitement and tension increase as the thought of success and the escape from detection becomes more and more satiable. It's where you actually look forward to the end of summer so that you can once again wear a coat. In the case of Itachi, the enigmatic folds of his black cloak were ecstasy. He knew at once that he had no choice but to do it.

Before he could begin, Itachi placed his armful of Ramen bowls onto a nearby shelf so as to free up his hands. Now he could slide the refrigerator door open and reach inside for his prize. A blast of lukewarm air provided such a contrast to the current temperature of the store he had become accustomed to, that it felt like the rising warm gust of descending into a subway station in mid summer. Itachi did not know what Yoohoo tasted like. He did not even normally drink chocolate flavored beverages, preferring instead fruit drinks like Tropicana. But that issue was not even on his mind. So absorbed was he in bringing his action to fruition, the idea of stealing a Tropicana beverage instead didn't even occur to him. The exotic allure of choosing something unfamiliar made the experience so much more appetizing. He wrapped his hand around the width of the bottle and lifted it from the compartment. He flinched in surprise as another bottle slid into its place, leaving no space for him to return the bottle to its original position. The bottles were perfectly packed together. There was no going back.

He stared in mild wonder at the glass bottle in his hands, marveling at the small, yet fascinating, details that made it seem so much more valuable than the $1.75 sticker claimed it was. The way drops of water had condensed on the side made it glisten in the fluorescent lights. He thought about how the bubble lettering tried so hard to seem friendly. The colors were designed to capture the eye. So much work had gone into physical appeal to make the product buyable, and yet all this effort was annihilated by the prospect of taking it for free.

He stared for another moment, as if he were considering buying it. As imperceptibly as possible he shifted his gaze to the upper right corner where a security mirror oversaw the aisles. His next thought, logically, went to where he could stand so that the mirror did not see the ultimate-quick capture of the bottle he had been ruminating on, trying to build the courage to finalize. He turned his back to the mirror and, realizing he had no shelter from its reflection, he ignored his cautious instincts for an instant and slipped the bottle into his sleeve as quickly as he could.

He barely sensed the precise moment of theft, it had happened almost outside his conscious guidance and he flushed with exhilaration as if he were an observer of his own action rather than the actor. His fear dissipated. No apocalyptic consequences had ensued. He checked the front counter of the store from where he stood. The cashier, and probably also owner of the bodega, was engaged in conversation with an enthusiastic, gesticulating customer who had purchased several lotto tickets and a pack of cigarettes. He was totally ignorant of the psychological storm in Itachi's mind.

Itachi began to swell with the conceit and gaiety of a victor who has just completed a daunting and somewhat terrifying task, whose adrenalin has not yet decreased so it became redirected from fear into a feeling of intense accomplishment and self-grandeur. He was so full of pride that he almost forgot his original task: the acquisition of Ramen for Akatsuki. He snapped back to attention and looked back to the shelf where he had stored his intended purchase. The bowls of Ramen, neatly stacked in front of the shelf's intended contents, did not completely obscure the packages of doughnuts behind them. In a rush of confidence he grabbed a pack of powdered, chalky-looking pastries and stuffed them into his sweaty palm while his fingers still pushed the Yoohoo bottle up into his sleeve. The crumpled plastic felt uncomfortable but he dared not flex his palm for fear of rustling. He looked back and forth as a last precaution; then with his free hand he retrieved the Ramen and brought it up to the counter.

With only one hand available to him, the process of paying was a grueling task. In order to transfer the stack of bowls he had cradled in his one arm to the counter, he lifted his shoulder and slowly extended his wrist to allow his burden to slide down his forearm and land next to the cash register. The cashier rang him up with no perceptible suspicion, not even looking up as he bagged Itachi's purchase. The LED display on the cash register showed the total price in green digital numbers; however, the grocer announced the price just the same.

As it was Itachi's turn to participate in the purchase, he was forced to make eye contact with the grocer. He turned his eyes up guiltily and tried to sink his face deeper into his collar in an attempt to hide from the interaction. Still retaining his stealthy, calculated way of moving, Itachi shamefully reached into his pocket for cash. He was certain his sin must've been apparent on his face, and he waited every moment for the man to phrase such a question as, "what are you holding in your sleeve?" But the man waited patiently for the ten dollar bill and with a bland expression and movement picking up perfectly upon where he had left off telling Itachi the price, flurried over the button pad on the register, thumbed threw the bills, and handed Itachi his change and Ramen in two "have a nice day" smiley face bags. The moment was over and another impasse of heart-racing anxiety had ended. But Itachi still had to reach the exit before he was free.

Itachi knew that he must make a perfect exit. He must walk as casually and nonchalantly as possible so, naturally, he appeared stiff and nervous. His hyperawareness made him incapable of telling whether he was walking too slowly or too quickly, so he alternated between the two. If there had been an observer to evaluate his performance at this juncture, they may have become suspicious, but it remained that no one paid any attention as he made his way back to the sidewalk. He continued walking awkwardly until he was able to turn the corner, and was released from the torment. While the actual theft had been liberating, facing his victim was not. Like a life-threatening event, every moment that one is absorbed in the experience is dread and fear. Every second is begging and praying to the indifferent, coldly logical forces of the universe to provide a release. But once the danger has subsided, the experience seems pleasurable in retrospect, in that it provided a break from the mundane such that no other experience can provide and made one drink the nectar of life in its fullest concentration. And that nectar was Yoohoo.

Now that Itachi's attention no longer went to one occupation, he could begin to observe his surroundings and contemplate on his success. Itachi made sure he was far enough away from the store's entrance before he took the Yoohoo and doughnuts out of his sleeve. He didn't want anyone in the store to wonder where he had gotten a Yoohoo so quickly and then immediately come to the realization of his crime. In reality, at most he barely would have registered was an unconscious glance. But Itachi had to make sure.

Itachi walked to the end of the block and sat on a bench facing the park. It was sunset. It must be close to dinner time. He should head back soon, the Akatsuki were probably getting hungry in that cave by now. For now, he would put those thoughts aside and just enjoy the scenery and taste his accomplishment. Itachi reached toward the yellow plastic cap before noting the small cursive message quaintly designed to look like real handwriting, "Shake it!" Without changing his regular impassive expression he shook the bottle before opening it and tasting the mysterious elixir for the first time. It was disgusting. Itachi hated Yoohoo.

Making one last attempt at preventing disappointment, Itachi took several more gulps. Eventually, he reached the point where he could not even stand to swallow it anymore. He hadn't even drunken one third of the Yoohoo. The entire emotional ordeal Itachi had undergone had been over a watered down dilution of almost chocolate. The elated feeling of accomplishment he had been experiencing only a few minutes prior was replaced instantly by the embarrassing hole of disappointment in his chest. He proceeded to open the bag of Drake's doughnuts. He touched the first doughnut to his tongue and there was an ephemeral flash of sweetness as the powder dissolved in his saliva. The greasy, tan ring beneath the powder was enjoyable in a buttery, intensely sweet way, but by the fourth donut in the pack of six, Itachi's mouth became so saturated with a buttery, sugary flavoring the original taste could not be re-experienced. Yet he continued to put more doughnuts in his mouth. Was it a futile attempt at continuing to experience the sweet sensation that Itachi had not only become habituated to, but now actually burned the roof of his mouth? Or was eating just a meaningless motion and at this point, an act that was destined to be completed open the opening of the packaging? Most likely, it was a combination of both.

Itachi had now eaten all six doughnuts and had nothing left but a plastic wrapper that already looked like garbage. Itachi felt bloated and thirsty and his fingers were sticky and gluey from sugar and saliva. Itachi had reached the point where the desire for sweets has completely evaporated and the food can now be realistically examined. Every horrific aspect of the consumption is now clear: the needless caloric intake, the feeling of bloat, and the understanding of the massive difference between the anticipated pleasure of the candy and the actual more mediocre experience of eating it. The thoughts he had previously put aside concerning his dinner duties to the Akatsuki in order to live in the moment, which was now over, reentered his mind. Except now his anxiety was intensified due to the delay. He decided it was a good idea to return to the cave. He walked back in the direction of the Rite Aid he had passed.

As Itachi glanced in the half empty display window of Rite Aid he remarked to himself, "Hey, this has been the first time I've gone out shopping without having to annihilate the entire village." Normally, slaughtering hundreds of people is a pleasurable hobby for Itachi. However, the past couple incidents he was forced into doing so do to circumstance, when he wasn't really in the mood and I'm sure everyone reading this understands the annoyance and boredom of doing something you usually enjoy when you just aren't in the mood for it.

Suddenly Itachi caught the sight of Kisame through the window. Wondering what he was doing, Itachi went into the Rite Aid.

"Kisame," he said in a soft, flat voice.

"What? Huh? Oh, it's Itachi!" Kisame responded jovially.

"What are you doing? I hope you're not after our Jinchuuriki," Itachi replied. "Because this is not a good place to look," he added blandly.

"Oh no. Hehe. I wasn't doing anything. You get the Ramen? Yes, hehe. That is good. Let's beat it back to the cave, eh Itachi?"

Itachi eyed him suspiciously from above his collar and turned towards the exit without verbally responding, assuming Kisame would follow. Just as the automatic doors slid to the edges of the archway, a loud voice shouted from behind them, "I saw you steal that water gun!"

Itachi turned to Kisame who smiled back at him with shark teeth confirming what Itachi suspected. He glared, feeling extreme disdain for Kisame. He knew Kisame was not the type to steal for the thrill. Kisame would never carefully, smoothly go through the motions of slipping an item into his sleeve. He didn't have the patience or ability to calculate the best angle from which to sneak something unseen into his pocket. No, Kisame was the type to see something and just grab it. Totally disregarding who was watching, Kisame would eye some shiny plastic and impulsively take it without even a thought as to why or whether he really wanted it. Itachi revealed nothing on his face but burned with superiority and condescension for Kisame who always idiotically smiled at his fortune.

"We saw you steal that lighter," the obese, long nailed woman behind the counter repeated. Itachi and Kisame did not react to the threatening voice immediately but moved slowly to the counter, sharing a mutual understanding psychopaths have that they had to play along with their enemy out of curiosity first.

"Alright, we're gonna' check the security tapes before we call the police. Until then, you guys have to wait here."

"May we see the tapes?" inquired Itachi unenthusiastically.

"No," the woman replied angrily as the manager emerged from the employee lounge and began to set up cardboard blocking the screen from Itachi and Kisame's sight.

Kisame jumped on top of the counter catching the attention of all the Rite Aid staff as well as shoppers.

"Excuse me; you need to get down from there immediately. We're calling the police [who were actually the village's local ninja]."

"Hehe, you don't need to look through those tapes!" Kisame laughed boldly while Itachi stood unconcerned and immobile below him in front of the register. "Because I did steal it! Haha!"

Kisame pulled the orange and yellow plastic water gun out from his sleeve and tossed it in the air and then drew a bandaged shark sword previously hidden beneath his robes and sliced the object he had desired so much as to steal it cleanly in half midair while laughing hysterically. Kisame then drew his hands quickly through the air in a series of gestures in preparation for his water jutsu. Itachi reading Kisame's jutsu with his sharingan, slowly meandered over to the beachwear aisle to get an umbrella.

"Even if you pay for that destroyed merchandise, we're still going to prosecu—" The obese cashier was cut off mid sentence by an unexpected massive indoor ocean wave. Unfortunately, she was unable to finish her sentence due to her death.

Several customers screamed as either the water pressure crushed them to death or the knocked over shelves in the aisles ripped from the floor by the wave crushed them to death.

Hearing the devastation, local village ninjas began to charge the Rite Aid in waves of their own. One ninja, clearly new to Genin status, charged Itachi with righteous fury and exhilaration from the idea of crushing an obviously outnumbered enemy so that he could brag about his first mission later that night to his family over sushi. Itachi watched him approach until he was about three feet away before annihilating him. Without dropping his "have a nice day" smiley face bags, Itachi jumped into the air spinning his legs and breaking the necks of ten ninjas almost simultaneously as they moved in on him.

In total defiance of the law of conservation of matter and energy, Kisame manifested another ocean in the middle of the Rite Aid which obliterated another pile of ninja into their molecular components and continued onward to the rest of the village tearing through a block's worth of houses.

"Oops! Guess I overestimated a little there, eh? Ha!" Kisame shouted.

At this point the walls of the Rite Aid were barely still standing and Itachi and Kisame were, more or less, surrounded by open air. Inflatable pool toys from the summer display case floated by and the mixture of decrepit, half standing buildings and sloshing water gave the scene the feel of the Jersey shore. (Note: If you are from the Jersey Shore and are offended by this comment interchange it for Staten Island.)

Just then, the rest of the village, assembling in a last gesture of self-defense charged from all directions. The next hour was, thus, spent eradicating the villagers and leveling the mildly aesthetically pleasing architecture.

At last Itachi and Kisame stood for a full two minutes without another attacker.

"FOR THE VILLAGE AT THE END OF THE RAINBOW!!!!" screamed an overly confident, outnumbered, foolish ninja, who no longer even had a cause to fight for and who revealed his whereabouts by shouting righteously, while directly charging his enemies. But since he was not Naruto, he died.

"That was the last one," stated Itachi.

"How do you know?" asked Kisame cockily.

"Excuse me, who here has annihilated a village before?"

"Master Itachi…" Kisame said with the downsized tone of a schoolchild who has been corrected.

"That's right," Itachi said matter-of-factly. He looked up. It was barely still lightsome and _way_ past dinner. At least the Ramen was instant, but he would still be in trouble. He burned with agitation and secret hate for Kisame. He had almost gotten away with just stopping in a random village that somehow didn't know about the most infamous organization on the planet whose uniform he wore in broad daylight and casually bought some instant Ramen for dinner at the store. He had destroyed so many villages that it was now subversive _not_ to destroy one and he had gotten _so_ close with the Village at the End of the Rainbow! That childish act of kleptomania defined all the attributes of Kisame Itachi disliked.

To a certain extent Kisame knew that he pissed him off. Seeing that he was capable of stirring an emotion in the poker-faced Itachi gave him a sense of power and the joviality of a malicious schoolboy that throws rocks into a beehive.

"It is quite late." Itachi said.

"Double time?" asked Kisame.

"Double time," Itachi confirmed.

They bolted off for the Akatsuki cave, the bags of Ramen fluttering on the ends of Itachi's arms as they swayed up and down as if moving in beat with Lanananayeej by DJ Waus while he ran. Seriously, listen to that song.


End file.
